


The Last of the Great Dragons

by victoriousscarf



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Desolation of Smaug, Gen, Villains hanging out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:06:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It only worked because Smaug was half awake, a bird knocking on his doorstep. Gold fell from his scales as he lifted his head, sniffing the stale air inside Erebor. Nothing had changed and he was about to bury his face back down in the treasure when a piercing sound split his mind, making him snarl and shake his head, a figure in a glowing eye standing where ever he turned his head to look.</p><p>That only meant it was imprinted in his mind.  He snarled at nothing as the Black Tongue started hissing in his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last of the Great Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this came out of rewatching DOS of wondering when the hell Smaug picked up the name Oakenshield, or anything about Sauron/the Necromancer if he was hidden in a mountain for the past sixty some years. Plus I have a lot of Sauron feels (Man do I have a lot of Sauron feels). 
> 
> If Galadriel can have weird telepathic conversations with people then by jove Sauron should too. 
> 
> Obviously spoilers for the Desolation of Smaug. And, uh, references to The Silmarillion. If Smaug took Erebor toward the start of the Third Age and was already at least several hundred years old, I'm assuming he at least knew Sauron while he was young. Please go with me. I'm taking liberties because of villains.

It only worked because Smaug was half awake, a bird knocking on his doorstep. Gold fell from his scales as he lifted his head, sniffing the stale air inside Erebor. Nothing had changed and he was about to bury his face back down in the treasure when a piercing sound split his mind, making him snarl and shake his head, a figure in a glowing eye standing where ever he turned his head to look.

That only meant it was imprinted in his mind.  He snarled at nothing as the Black Tongue started hissing in his mind.

 _Awaken_.

“I am awake,” he said, aloud to hear the echo in the halls, for if he spoke it he would think it and the other would hear. He spoke the common tongue, simply because he had never liked the twisted syllables of the Black Tongue—he was twisty enough for anyone.

 _Then pay attention_ , the voice continued, Sauron for certain. Smaug shook his head, gold clattering to the floor beneath him. It had been almost an age since Sauron’s voice had been heard in anyone’s mind.

“Are you trying to gather your strength back then?” he asked and Sauron hissed in his mind, the sound sharp enough to cause him pain and he recoiled, head snapping back as he pushed his wings down, rising up and shaking more of the wealth of Erebor off his back.

 _Insolent creature_ , Sauron seethed.

“Who has the wealth of the last great Dwarf kingdom, and who lost his ring?” Smaug replied and that time the pain was far from incidental. Apparently Sauron’s strength had been growing for some time.

 _I have one of the dwarven rings,_ Sauron said and Smaug’s attention was caught. _One of the few that did not go down a dragon’s gullet. It was of your mountain even._

Smaug snarled, shaking out his wings again. “Do you mock me with this fact?”

Sauron’s laugh had once been pretty—in fact once everything had been beautiful about him and he could have charmed elf and man and dwarf alike if and when he tried. It was no longer so. _Events are moving again, wrym, and I would have you prepared._

“To fight in your wars?” Smaug asked, shaking his head as he flew up, perching himself on one of the dwarf’s walkways, wings digging into the pillars. “When I rule under the mountain with all this wealth?”

 _It is not all the wealth of the world_ , Sauron replied, amiable enough and Smaug chuckled at that fact. _As I said—there are dwarf rings not yet eaten by your kind_.

“But you do not have the ring you seek the most,” Smaug said and regretted it

 _Worm!_ Sauron thundered in his head. _Sniveling creature, hiding in his mountain. I was there when you race was created, I helped mould the very shape of your scales, I formed the bones that gave your kind wings when Glaurung only slithered on the ground._

Smaug shook his shoulders out and stamped his feet, getting his bearings back. “Why have you come to me then? Surely you have orcs enough.”

 _You are the last of the great dragons,_ Sauron said and he had always been so good at flattery, hadn’t he? _I want you to come when I call, I wish for you to rain fire down on the North and blaze your way to the South. I move for Mordor soon and out of these wretched, hidden halls. I want you alert for when the year comes, and I want you to eat the dwarf that comes to your doorstep. I’ve even called Azog off the hunt, and he seethes at that._

A slow smile spread across Smaug’s face, though no one could rightly see it. “And which dwarf comes to my doorstep?”

 _Thorin Oakenshield, of the line of Durin,_ Sauron said and Smaug crowed, an echo through the halls and over the remains of the dwarves that had been trapped inside the mountain with him. _He was a boy when you drove him from Erebor, and he had made many enemies since._

“I have always wanted to eat that line,” Smaug said. “They all escaped me last time.”

 _He is young enough still,_ Sauron mused. _To be tender for a dwarf, his young family perhaps more so. But I want him dead, for the dwarves should never rise again._ Smaug tried not to snicker, for they had fought in the last alliance too, and Sauron was never like to forgive any of the races. _He seeks the King’s Jewel to unite his people._

“When did he become Oakenshield?” Smaug asked, curious now as he spotted another pile of gold that looked comfortable, slithering around the ground toward it.

 _When he smote Azog’s hand from his arm,_ Sauron said, sounding unconcerned with his apparent general’s health. Azog’s grudge must have run deep. Smaug was certain his was older by several centuries.

“I have always wanted to eat that entire line,” Smaug said, sliding underneath the gold, curling up.

 _Then eat the last of them that live,_ Sauron said, voice as soothing as it could be in the Black Tongue, almost as a lullaby to send Smaug back into a doze while he waited for the dwarves to come. _They travel fast toward the mountain. My spies watch them when they can, my hunters chase them. If they come, do as you will but be prepared._

Smaug did not bother to argue. There would be no point to it. He would gladly eat the young prince he remembered trying to stand against him that day before running. Hopefully there would be time to toy with him first, drag him through the halls and make him face the death that Smaug wrought on his people. Yes, he knew dwarven faces and he looked forward to the wounded pride and despair. And when Sauron called, if he regained his strength, then Smaug would fly out and wreck destruction and bring more gold and treasure back to his hoard.  Perhaps even the dwarf lord’s ring Sauron tempted him with, the ring that should have been his when he took the old king’s head off.

He had rested long enough on his piles of gold. They could stand to become bigger still.

 _Be ready_ , Sauron said, a lingering presence before he slipped from Smaug’s mind, attention going elsewhere. _Smash Oakenshield’s bones when he comes and be ready_.

“Alright,” Smaug agreed, turning once more underneath the gold before laying his stomach down and closing his eyes. Perhaps having Sauron back might not be so bad after all.


End file.
